


Hope - N7 Month Day 16

by miceenscene



Series: N7 Month 2019 [14]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Intense Conversations, N7 month, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22335790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: “This isn’t real,” Garrus sighed, not giving his dreams, or nightmares perhaps, the benefit of looking at them.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: N7 Month 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533266
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Hope - N7 Month Day 16

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that N7 Month is more of a state of mind than anything else. Plus, I wanted to finish the prompt list. -Kaitlyn

Garrus turned over in the bed, his arm brushing across a familiar slope and curve. Not willing to give up this small alcove of sleep he’d managed to find shelter in, he instinctively curled around the shape. It fit so perfectly in his arms. A hand slid up the back of his carapace, finding its usual spot at the base of his neck. Deft fingers, five of them, gently massaged at his perpetual sore spot, well-practiced and efficient in their movement. A grateful groan left him as the twinge was temporarily smoothed. A quiet chuckle that he loved so very much answered him.

Wait. This wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes. His vision was filled with just her green eyes as she tipped her forehead to press against his. A warm smile crinkled the skin around them. There was enough love in them to buoy a whole fleet, enough love to drown in. Swiftly, he pulled back, fighting base instincts to press closer and never let go.

“What’s wrong, Garrus?” she asked in a low voice, her hand cupping his scarred mandible. Spirits, she even smelled right--ozone and copper and pine trees.

Garrus pulled her hand away and sat up, pressing his hands harshly to his eyes. He just needed to rub hard enough and he could shove this right out the back of his head. But instead, she sat up with him, head resting on his shoulder, arms curling around him. They’d spent many a night curled up like this, every arrangement of their limbs perfected and achingly familiar.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered again.

“This isn’t real,” he sighed, not giving his dreams, or nightmares perhaps, the benefit of looking at them.

“Are you sure?” Her hand ran along his mandible again, the smooth slide of her palm, the warmth of her skin, every tiny detail exactly right. And wrong at the same time.

He pulled her hand away again and threw his gaze at her. Every nerve ending was begging him to stop trying to fight this. She was right there, they cried. It’s Shepard sitting right here, within arm’s reach. But that was impossible.

“Yes. I’m sure,” he replied, clenching his hands around his knees to keep them under control.

She watched him for a minute. “I’m not.”

_ That _ hurt, burned square in the middle of his chest. He turned his face away, unable to bear the impossible sight of her any longer. “No, this isn’t real,” he repeated as if repetition would make it true. “It… it  _ can’t _ be.”

“Why not?”

His patience momentarily snapped. “ _ Because if I’m seeing you here that means _ \--” No, don’t end that sentence, Vakarian. The universe doesn’t need anymore bad ideas. “You’re  _ not _ here.”

“Then where am I?” she asked, oddly honest in her curiosity.

“On… on Earth. In a hospital.”  _ Hopefully _ , a wicked voice added.

“You really think someone can survive the Citadel erupting around them?” she asked, sounding oh so very calm about the idea.

Now he glared at her. “ _ Yes _ . Yes, I do.”

She gave him a reproachful look, one that he hadn’t been on the receiving end of in years. The ‘Are you sure about that, Officer Vakarian?’ look. It made his glare fade away into uncertainty.

“You’ve beaten death before and all it did was piss you off,” he amended.

“So is it going to be you handing my corpse off to Cerberus this time then?” she asked bluntly. The sentence wrapped around his neck and squeezed, making him gasp for air for a few seconds.

He couldn’t be this near to her. He had to move, do something. The floor was under his feet before he’d even finished the thought. Though this cabin, while generous, didn’t give him near enough room to pace. Especially since every time he turned around, she was sitting on the foot of the bed and watching him.

“ _ Stop that _ ,” he finally snapped, petulance and frustration rumbling in his subvocals.

“I’m not doing anything,” she replied patiently. He also hadn’t heard that tone in years.

He turned back on his heel to face her, heart beat pounding in his ears. “Stop… stop  _ being _ here. You’re Not Here, You--you  _ can’t _ …”

“Can’t what, Garrus?”

“ _ You can’t do this to me again! _ ” He heaved two breaths. “The last time… last time nearly killed me, Shepard. And last time I didn’t know… But I know now.” He closed the distance between them, kneeling before her. There was such pain in her eyes, pain for him he realized. He gripped her hand in his, pressing a begging kiss to her palm.

“Just please…” His voice, subvocals thrumming with anguish inside him. “Please stay alive. I--I need that hope.”

She covered his hand with hers and leaned forward to press her brow to his again.

“I’m trying, Garrus,” she said, her voice laden with exhaustion. “I’m really trying.”

He nodded, eyes shutting to savor the sensation of her so near again even if it was only a dream of a memory. When her hand cupped his cheek again, he met her gaze.

“But if I can’t--” Instinctively, he half pulled back, repulsed by the idea. But she didn’t let him get very far, tugging him back into the intimate space with her. “If I can’t… Remember there is still a galaxy to be rebuilt, there are still people to lead… there is still a life to be lived.”

For a long minute, he stared into her eyes, promising himself that even if he lived the next one hundred years without her he would never forget her like this. 

“Don’t bury yourself with me, Garrus.” Her voice was steady, this was not a request. It was an order. “ _ I _ need that hope.”

He nodded slowly, assuredly.

“I will,” he promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

Only then did she let go of him long enough to wrap him into a bone-crushing hug. He clung to her tightly--he wouldn’t let go until he absolutely had to.

“I love you, Garrus,” she whispered, her voice thick now, quivering under the weight of the galaxy.

“I love you too…” His hand pressed tight to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. “I’ll be there soon enough, Shepard. Wait for me.”

“I will.” 


End file.
